


the one where enjolras is a weeaboo

by orangelight



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Mentions of Sex, look we all make mistakes, sometimes u write a les miserables fic in which the concept of moe is discussed, sometimes you forget to go to the gym, sometimes you lose your earphones, sometimes you pick the wrong major
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-31 07:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21118004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangelight/pseuds/orangelight
Summary: “Euagh,” He says, eloquently, before clearing his throat. “It’s not- it isn’t like that. She’s- she’s moe.”“She's... what?”“Moe.”





	the one where enjolras is a weeaboo

He couldn’t breathe right. Grantaire was in his room. Grantaire, who cooked and had tattoos and could grow facial hair and knew every cool person and cool place in the city and smelled like honey, was standing in his room and _ he was right in front of his collection. _

“Dude,” Grantaire begins, his eyebrows raised at the glass display case in the corner of the room. “You gotta be fuckin’ with me.”

It stood at 75 inches tall, had five adjustable shelves similarly made of glass, a spotlight, a lock, and it was immaculately clean. And also filled with anime figurines.

“I can’t believe I thought you were _ gay!” _

“Well, I mean, I tend to like men more, so it-”

“Aren’t you against the objectification of women?”

“There are only like ten girls in there-”

“And what girls they are. The tits on this one- whoo, boy.”

“She’s- she’s a kunoichi! That’s what she does, it’s- it’s to distract her opponents! She’s _ cool! _ I mean- I understand her character is sort of a sexist concept, I’m not _ excusing-” _

“She’s showing you her thong-covered ass.”

“Wait, just listen,” Enjolras breaks, moving in beside Grantaire to draw his attention where he wanted it. “Look, look- look at her legs, right?”

“I have definitely seen her legs, Enjolras.”

“No! No, not- that’s not what I mean! How do you not appreciate this? They look beautiful, right, you can actually see the toned muscles on her calf and thigh. You _ know _exactly what they would feel like. That’s cool, right? You were an artist, Grantaire, tell me it doesn’t look beautiful!”

Grantaire slowly drifts his gaze over to Enjolras. He doesn’t blink for a moment.

“You spend a lot of time alone just _ knowing _what her thighs feel like, huh?”

“Oh my God!” He’s dying. Actually dying. “That isn’t what I meant to say!”

“Aww, don't worry, I think it’s cute,” Grantaire mocks, leaning forward into Enjolras’s personal space. Enjolras can smell his breath. It's kind of stale. He likes it. “Straight-laced Enjolras with his grandpa clothes and his quiet little innocent introvert act, and he really just wants a thick ninja girl to crush his skull between her thighs.”

“Euagh,” He says, eloquently, before clearing his throat. “It’s not- it isn’t like that. She’s- she’s moe.”

“She's... what?”

“Moe.”

Grantaire just stares at him expectantly.

“Christ, fine,” He finally gives, rubbing his eyelids. “It’s this… It’s the word you use to describe something that’s really pure and cute, like- it makes your chest clench and- and- and you want to protect it. It’s not about sex. Sometimes it’s about sex. But it’s mostly just… Affection.”

Grantaire hums in understanding, nodding and watching Enjolras for a few seconds. Enjolras glances up at him, and for a moment he thinks Grantaire might actually get it. And then he talks.

“And that’s what weeaboo shut-ins who can’t get actual girlfriends call their cartoon wives. Cartoon wives who, mind you, all have tits bigger than their heads.”

Enjolras visibly cringes. Grantaire had just said the equivalent of a punch to the face without breaking eye contact and he still has a faint, cute smile playing on his lips like Enjolras is even alive to see it anymore. The skin on his face is going to melt off at this point.

He’d never felt ashamed of anything more in his life, not even that time he bought a fleshlight and then immediately threw it out in a panic when it arrived in the mail. Every trace of dignity inside of him had just been wiped off the face of the earth in two sentences. 

“So,” Grantaire continues, after a silence that stretches on too long. Enjolras hadn’t even noticed it getting awkward until it was broken. Grantaire is fiddling with his fingers. “Am I… I mean, could I… Could I be moe?”

He stares. Enjolras stares back. Grantaire looks like he's shocked himself and is immediately regretting the sincerity with which he asked that question. He begins grinning and laughing like he just made a joke, starting and stopping sentences, but it sounds unhinged.

For a few painful seconds, Enjolras can’t talk. He looks at Grantaire, really looks at him, and notices the stubble messily growing down his neck, the pattern of dimpled scars covering his chubby cheeks, his crooked teeth, his crooked nose, his crooked eyes and the embarrassed way they subtly flit away from Enjolras's gaze, the slight anxious shifting of his body weight between his bare feet.

“Yeah,” He finally answers, his voice sounding painfully, humiliatingly heartfelt to his own ears. “Yeah, I think you’re moe.”

That earnestness vanishes the instant Grantaire bursts into a genuine fit of laughter, somehow able to make it sound mocking.

“Okay, okay, I totally get why I thought you were gay, now.”


End file.
